The PreHunger Games
by espionage.lies
Summary: Before the rebellion, before they decided to name themselves Panem, there were still 13 colonies and they still played The Hunger Games. It took place in what was called Parciluen, but the rules stayed the same. Merlin has been called out-his escape from District 13 coming back to haunt him, and he is forced to return as tribute. But, unbeknownst to Merlin, Camelot is watching.
1. THE LETTER

**THE LETTER**

Merlin sat on his bed, legs crossed, and stared at the letter in his trembling hands.

_Emrys Merlin Ambrosius:_

_ It has come to our attention that you no longer dwell in your district, 13 of magic. Knowing this is against strict laws, you may either return on your own or be dragged back by Peacekeepers._

_ As payment of your crimes, you must either serve as a slave in the Capitol with your tongue cut out, killed, or be tribute for your district._

_ If you do not show for your district's Reaping, a decision will be made for you._

_ Capitol of Parciluen_

Taking in a deep breath and releasing it slowly, Merlin made his decision. He grabbed his bad from under his bed and packed it with a change of clothes, his staff, a refilled vial of Avolon's water, and his spell book. He stopped, looked back, and stuffed in a blanket as well.

He left the letter near where Gaius slept so he would see it in the morning and know where he had gone. Merlin then raced off to the kitchen and snuck some food into a pouch he placed on tap of the blanket.

After notifying a bleary-eyed servant that he would be unable to serve the king the following morning, he walked over to the stable and picked a mare, saddling her gently as she nuzzled his chest.

He climbed onto her, reaching for the reigns, and motioned the horse to move out into the dark night, using his magic to silence the mare's clopping hoof-steps and turning both invisible for the guards. Then, they were off to Parciluen.


	2. THE SERVANT

**BETA: FLYAWAY213**

**THE SERVANT**

Gaius awoke at the break of dawn, the sun's rays lightly shinning in the courtyard. A letter sat beside his bed, on the nightstand where he kept a glass of water, half empty. He looked at it in confusion, standing and stretching as he yawned and walked over to his desk where he kept his glasses. He reached for them, knocking over a vial in the process causing him to swear, something he would never allow his ward to see.

Rushing to stop the fluid's motion, he pressed the letter into the vile-smelling liquid causing the printed lettering to smear and the soft paper to become moist. Another swear as he realized what he had done before he fitfully cleaned the mess up with other supplies but, when seeing the illegible ink smears, he knew the damage had already been done.

He sighed, setting the letter on the now dry surface, and walked away hoping the paper had been no more important than the color of his shoes. Getting prepared for his daily rounds, he promptly pushed the letter from his mind.

* * *

Gwen woke, the sun shinning brightly in the foggy air. She smiled timidly, raising her head and looking into the face of her husband. Her movement, as subtle as it was, still woke the sleeping king. He mumbled something as he tightened his grip on his naked wife's waist, cracking his left eye open slowly.

He smiled back, kissing the tip of her nose, his lips dry from the long night of sleep. She giggled at the childish action and pushed at his chest playfully causing a warm laugh to erupt from his croaking morning throat, "Hello, beautiful."

The queen replied warmly, "Hello, handsome." She gave him a quick peck on his lips before raising up out of bed and going to dress herself. Although she was now queen, she still disliked for servants to serve her and avoided it as much as she possibly could. After she put on her decencies, covering up her medium-sized bosom and tender, silky skin that made the man in the bed grumble diligently, she paused to search for the dress she would wear that day.

When she finally tied up all that she could, a tentative knock at the door stopped her from demanding her husband to raise with her. Arthur glanced at his wife, confusion in his eyes that he quickly glossed over to his steady, kingly gaze, "Enter." In came a small man, his nose quite pointy and his fingers playing with the bottom of his worn tunic while his dark, greasy brown hair made it's way into his equally dark brown eyes, and bowed.

Arthur rolled his eyes, much to Gwen's displeasure, when he spotted the nervous traits of the twitchy servant, "Rise. What is it the you have to tell me?" The servant jumped at the king's voice, stuttering out his answer quickly, "There are guests, my Lord. They rode in this morning, my Lord. They say they are from the Kingdom of Parciluen, my Lord. They request your presence at once, my Lord."

The king once again rolled his eyes at the excessive amounts of _'__my Lords'_ when Merlin rose to his mind, Arthur questioning where he could be before dismissing it for his usual tardiness. Arthur looked onto the again bowing servant before responding, "Tell them I shall be there shortly. Call upon the Council and the Knights of the Round Table-no, have somebody else do it. Now leave, it seems I must dress myself this morning."

He added his last words as an afterthought but spoke them as loudly as his other words. When the servant turned to leave, or what Arthur suspected was to run away, he once again called out, "Oh, and tell _Mer_lin to hurry it up! I don't know why I keep him around." As the door closed, a small thud in the quiet room, Arthur yawned, standing upon his chilling stone floor and walking over to his wardrobe where his wife was already searching for clothes her husband could wear.

Arthur set his head on her shoulder, already another yawn making it's way past his lazy lips, and whispered in his ear, "I wan't the red one, Pendragon red."

**I've been in the hospital for a couple weeks due to severe dehydration and malnutrition; don't really care about food and water anyways.**

**I realize I sound like I have some eating disorder but it's not like that. I have a taste disorder, one where I can't taste at all so it's annoying to eat since I can't taste anything.**


	3. THE HOME DISTRICT

**I have no idea how old Merlin is—early 20's(?)—so I am putting him as age 23. A noted rule for this Hunger Game: ages 12-18 will have their names in while ages 19-25 will only have their names in if they are without husband or wife.**

**THE HOME DISTRICT**

The trip was long, an occasional harsh wind fought to blow him off his course. Merlin's horse was panting, a slight amount of foam dribbling from her mouth. The thinning trees finally broke off revealing a simple village-like community, dreary looks upon many of the passersby.

The mare trotted along a thin, dirt path, hoofs making a rhythmic clomp as they hit the solid ground exhaustedly. The turning of heads was not an unusual action, odd looks passing over those who spotted him. Merlin's eyelids were drooping having not slept due to the rush to get to his destination before the Reaping began.

He soon reached the district's stable, pulling his leg to the other side and dropping down to his wobbly feet. He passed the worn reigns over to the stable-master who brushed his tanned and coarse hands through the mare's drenched mane. A flicker of recognition brimmed the man's almond brown eyes, a small grimace making its way to his chapped lips.

"So, you have finally returned," the man's voice was stern yet a sliver of kindness could be made out of it. Merlin gave his own grimace to the man before speaking himself, "Aye, I got a letter to compete in the games or face the Capital's wrath. I guess you just can't escape them, huh?" The stable-master led the horse to a stall, a deep smell of manure wafting through the noses of the two men.

He nodded his head thoughtfully, "I would offer a place in my home for you until the Reaping but, well, Alice hasn't been so well since—." Merlin looked down, "I wouldn't want to impose anyways. Hannah was a good girl; she didn't deserve what she went through, Dave. She really didn't."

Dave smiled sadly, little warmth in his eyes with the memory of his little girl, "She fought bravely with what little magic she had, my little girl." Merlin nodded his head, a saddened look upon his face from the young girl's memory, before he distanced himself from the man who was, for no better words, lost in his own past.

Merlin's thin leather boots hit the harsh earth with delicate steps, his long arms swinging with every step. One would think, looking around, that the district would be rich with life, ripe with fruit, and full of smiles. _'If only that were so,' _Merlin thought sadly. The district would be if the Capital wouldn't take all those with the power to do so, leaving only those with weak power or none at all. It was an unfair disadvantage to the district who could only work on with magic, the only skill taught except for occasional short lessons on the basics of self-defense.

He was lucky, he supposed, that none had found out his true power, unlike his little sister. She was not so powerful, not as powerful as he or Morgana were, but she was powerful enough to be called to the Capital for her skills. He remembered the day perfectly; she was six and he was eight at the time.

She had been playing in the forest, an illegal act that was ignored most of the time—those with magic usually cared for the plants and animals as friends, not food. They caught her, attempted to tie her up but she defended herself and, in doing so, used her magic. Another sorcerer quickly dispatched her and she was brought to the Capital to train, just like the sorcerer who caught her did.

'_If only I had been there with her'_, he often thought to himself. Soon, Merlin was at the local inn, its rundown structure blooming doubt into his mind. Being a district, and the farthest out, the inn barely, if ever, filled up. The only ones who ever stayed there were the regulars and when an occasional homeless man finally saved enough to stay for a night.

He opened the door delicately, the rusted hinges creaking under the light movement. The door frame hung low causing Merlin to duck his head to avoid hitting it, something that caused soft laughter to echo through the small inn. A young woman, perhaps a year younger than him, walked into his vision, her hair dark and skin tanned to match most of the other people. Her familiar eyes sparked a memory in his mind of a little girl who would play with his sister when she was still around and, later, he himself.

A name quickly dug itself out of his mind and onto his parched tongue, "Anna! You are looking as beautiful as ever!" She laughed shyly, a pink blush making its way across her cheeks and down her neck, "You are too kind, Emrys. I, on the other hand, am not! Your ears have gotten bigger and you have definitely gotten lankier!"

Merlin copied her blush, though a deeper red and it didn't stop until it reached the tip of his ears, and showed off a fake pout that just showed how much of a _girl _he was, "You are too cruel, Anna! We have not seen one another in years and here you are insulting me." Another one of her laughs rung out, "I suppose you are wanting a room?"

He ignored her laugh and nodded, "Please, my lady." Anna looked at the man oddly, "Have you been around nobles as of late?" Merlin smirked comically, "Indeed, I have. What's it to you?" Anna stared at him, her green eyes flickered with brown resting upon his own soft blue, "Nothing! Here, your room key."

Merlin smiled and thanked her, walking up the unsteady stairs, "It's room number thirteen!" He smiled grimly, "Of course it is."


	4. THE GUESTS

**BETA: FLYAWAY213**

**THE GUESTS**

Arthur walked down the hallway to the council room where his guests awaited. Gwen, who quickly tired of her husband's whining, left before he finished dressing and had already greeted the guests. His footsteps echoed off the cold, stone walls but, much to Arthur's surprise, he was already missing the extra footsteps that usually followed his. He was definitely going to put Merlin in the stocks for his tardiness if it made him feel this way.

The clanging of armor made it's way to Arthur's ears shortly before the appearance of the large entrance doors to the council room appeared, one of it's guards jumping from foot to foot, seeming to attempt to scratch at his skin through the tough, metal armor. Arthur almost snorted before he remembered that he could perfectly well empathize and looked to the man pithily. The guards opened the doors, the itchy one's face appearing as a tomato-a fruit that Merlin knew so closely-as he called out the king's name.

King Arthur Pendragon of Camelot walked across the red carpeted floor to his throne, head held high as he glanced at his unusual guests. His **big** bum set itself on the velvety surface of his throne before he finally spoke, "What do I owe the pleasure of this surprising visit?"

Two people stood tall, two others following with bowed heads and eyes downcast, were before the throne. One of the first two had dark, curly hair in a color that looked faintly like the color of Arthur's seat cushion. Her slim body was clothed in a mixture of clothes and designs almost overwhelming all in the room, excluding the four at it's center. The second had short, straight hair in a shocking bright blue, her face unnaturally pale and eyelashes longer than most women in the court wore their finger nails. Sitting in her acute hair was a large pink bow, matching her equally pink dress which reached down to her knees.

The two in the background wore black, skin tight clothing that seemed dirty and worn. There faces were both a sickly pale, their hair chopped short up to their scalp, and mouths' closed tightly, seemingly painfully. Disgust filled Arthur and only years of practice in hiding his emotions made it able for him to hide it. Unfortunately, many others in the room, along with the beautiful Gwen, could not.

With a small clearing of the throat, the blue haired woman began to speak, her voice high pitched and squeaky, "I am Sheravia and the one by my side is my dearest sister, Marvia. We have come to your precious kingdom as guests." An airy silence echoed the woman.

After much breath, Arthur spoke, "I am honored, my lady, as we all are but I must ask. Why have you come here? Our kingdoms have never been of the greatest of allies and I doubt you would travel so far for a simple visit." A shrieking laugh released from the chest of Marvia as if the question he had asked was the most obvious, "Why, it is the time of the Games, of course. It's an honor to be invited to watch, how could you not know?"

Arthur awkwardly glanced at Gwen through the corner of his eye, his jaw tense, "I know of your Games and I wish no part of it. You may stay as long as you like but I will not support your horrid entertainment." A cold look passed over the two women, their faces frozen in chilling smiles, "But you must, my dear king. To deny an invitation would be a great insult to our land."

Before Arthur could speak, a council member spoke up, "Excuse me, my Lord, but she is correct. I have heard of a land who refused their invitation and was annihilated before the Games were even completed." A shocked gasp made its way across the open room, the king looking upon the women with nervousness, "If not watching will do my kingdom harm than I shall gladly accept the invitation for your Games."

The icy smiles turned genuine once more, "We are glad. All necessities will be set up to your convenience in your court yard." The King nodded, his crowned head bobbing in up and down in consent, "Of course. Please, I shall have a servant escort you to your chambers. We were not expecting you so you will have to forgive us. And two rooms for your…servants."

"Oh, they will be needing no rooms for they are not servants. These are slaves, outlaws, escapees from the colonies who thought they could run from the Capital. They are but fools." Arthur swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing slightly, "I see. Oh, and my lady." The two women who had turned around to follow a servant to their rooms paused, "Yes, my lord?"

Arthur spoke smoothly, already knowing the answer to his next question, "And how will we be seeing this game?" The two women looked at one another before turning their heads towards the king, speaking consecutively, "Why, magic, of course.


	5. THE NIGHT BEFORE

**Dedicated to Sin - NaMe whose review made me want to write this like crazy as soon as I read it (which was not too long ago). Expect more chapters soon.**

**BETA: FLYAWAY213**

**THE NIGHT BEFORE**

Merlin's hands dipped into his decent sized bag depositing a few of the items onto the wooden table at the center of the room. Against the wall facing the door was a small bed just large enough to fit an average height adult male, a bit too short for one tall and lanky young warlock.

He grumbled as he searched for the water tin he forgot to pack hoping upon hope he had just been blind to the obvious during the journey. Unfortunately, his hope was tarnished as he pulled out nothing but air from his search. With a sigh, he poked his head out the door and decided to ask his old friend if she could spare a bit.

The Reaping was taking place the next day, after all. The water was always free that week so everyone could be looking decent and healthy enough for the Capital's viewing. It was a good idea, just not planned out all so greatly. For one, some did not even own the proper clothes or have access to a working faucet with actual clean water.

"Anna, I may have done something a bit foolish..."

* * *

Arthur looked thoughtfully at his dear wife. She was eating a meal of thin slices of meat, cheese, and hardened bread from the kitchen's fire. Out their window, sorcerers mingled with red capes as they worked on setting up platforms and wooden barriers as a base for the…show.

Sir Gwaine stood atop one fully built stand, his scowl interfacing that of Sheravia and Marvia's smiles as if in competition. Sheravia, her blue hair tousled in a single wind, was calling orders out while Marvia attempted to seduce a few of the knights, much to their fierce disgust.

Gwen yawned softly, "I'm sure it will all come out okay, Arthur." Her reassurance did nothing to calm Arthur's tense nerves, "I just don't understand why they insist we watch. It feels off." He, although very oblivious to much, felt as if they were doing this with an alternative motive. They were not allies, not even on the same side of Albion. The Kingdom of Parciluen supported magic while Camelot, in contrast, most definitely did not. It was only due to sure, unwilling obligation that he submitted to the outrageous ideals of the cruel kingdom, if only temporarily.

The blue haired woman walked to her companion, grinning whispers suspired between the two. The slaves were nowhere in sight and Arthur suspected they to be chained to a wall somewhere. Contrary to his suspicions, although it would be greatly desired, the two were not seemingly close to being chained to a wall. No, that would be far too gracious for the two criminals, in the Capital's words. Instead, they stood spine straight stiff as they both held a barrel of water over their heads. If they let it down, the "prison guards" would be notified immediately.

* * *

"My Dark Lady, I am humbled by your presence. What is it that brings you here?" a plump man asked nervously. His thinning ginger hair stuck to his forehead like honey, a sweet relish of fear. Her light lips smirked tightly, her hand reaching towards him in an animalistic manner.

His eyes widened in terror as her smirk rose a fraction revealing a mouth of blades. "You can help me. Indeed, you will choose my name from your Reaping jar," she stated firmly.

Confusion crossed his horrified face, "But, my Dark Lady, you are not a part of my district!" Her pupils dilated in the heated passion of predator against prey as she gripped his fatty neck, "Oh, I know this. The thing is, the Capital does not."


	6. THE MORNING OF

**THE MORNING OF**

**BETA: FLYAWAY213**

The morning chirps of birds woke them from their sleep. Arthur and Gwen rose slowly, knowing the Game's Reaping would soon begin. Merlin, his hair stuck up from sleep, fell off his bed in an attempt to untangle his feet from the thin sheets.

Resting beside the door was a tub half full of lukewarm water. Merlin undressed himself, stumbling over to the liquid, dropping clothes to the floor on the short way over. As soon as he was soaking in the wooden tub his eyes flashed gold and steam rose from its depths.

* * *

A dark haired beauty glided down the stairs of a small inn. She was dressed in a royal red gown, her bodice drawn tight drawing the eyes of many a men. Her dark slippers stepped over drunken spills on the floor, her nose scrunched up in disgust.

She addressed a young barmaid, sliding a gold coin into her well-worn hand, "I was never here." Green eyes widened as she nodded quickly and scurried to the back in an act of false obliviousness.

* * *

Two merry ladies cheerfully clopped through the square, their high shoes carefully avoiding upturned stones and large, aggravated cracks. Looking around, their heads nearly twirling like owls with their huge eyes, they smiled in satisfaction. Everything was nearly completed and all they needed was a seating place. Of course, they had a couple other views set up in the lower towns so none could miss the _joy_ of seeing the Games.

Arthur was downright worried. He hadn't seen Merlin for two days now. Having asked Gaius, he knew he was supposed to be in the tavern. Well, not _supposed_ to be as he was supposed to by his side! He had seen no hide nor hair of Merlin in the Rising Sun and Sir Gwaine had not drunk past him in any of his exploited fun.

Gaius saw the worry in Arthur's eyes and could only think to reflect it back. He was thinking more and more that the note he had practically destroyed was much more important than he could ever have suspected. Merlin was gone, a horse was missing from the royal stables, and nobody had the time to truly act out their worry with all that was happening with the Games setup. He could only hope, only assume, that his young ward was safe.

* * *

Merlin dressed himself in his regular attire knowing it may just be the last time he would ever wear it. It wasn't that he doubted he could win, it was more in thought of how he would likely be captured when his magic is revealed to the Capitol to be powerful-the most powerful in all of time, no less.

A horn sounded from afar and Merlin rushed to pull his boots on, nearly tumbling out the door of his room. He rushed down the stairs only to trip on the last step causing his forehead to smash into the splintered floor, much to his embarrassment. His feet pummeled the ground and jumped over puddles on their way to the district's center. Falling in line behind a young boy, perhaps at the youngest age of 12 years, he finally allowed himself to catch breath.

He rubbed his head in pain but ignored it, facing the men who would check him in. As they pricked his finger and absorbed his blood into thin sheets of parchment, a young woman giggled at him. He looked at her, looked behind himself at a grown man digging into his nostrils, and back at her before ignoring the sound altogether. He had more serious matters to worry about.

* * *

A dark smile rested on soft, pink lips.

Two woman cheered in glee at the knowledge of what was soon to come.

A grimace graced the face of one nervous warlock.

The royal crowns rested on the desk of one Arthur Pendragon as the king and queen held one another in silence.

The Court Physician looked at his missing ward's bedroom door with a sense of foreboding.

Decently dressed men, women, and children stood stock still at the center of each District as they watched a stage in dread.


End file.
